thought i needed this
by carpfish
Summary: It hurts so much and he loves it. This is the kind of sensation that he can't get from anywhere else, because San-chan isn't a cruel person and Chitose is too much a romantic, but his king is brutal and rough and cruel enough to give it to Shouhei just the way he likes it. Suoh Mikoto x Akagi Shouhei


**Project K, fanfiction.**

**Suoh Mikoto x Akagi Shouhei, oneshot.**

**word count:** 1938 wow

**warning(s):** porn without plot, sexual content, kinks, bdsm, violence, violence kink in fact, rough sex, blood, guns being in places they shouldn't, this is just really messed up ok be warned

**dedicated to ayse because it was written in her ask box**

_a/n: i don't know how this happened i actually haven't written porn in ages and all of a sudden this happens. i am so sorry. basically my headcanon shouhei has a huge violence and masochism kink, and is a huge slut so_

The metal collar is cold and tight around his throat, and Shouhei knows that it's going to leave a ring of dark bruises tomorrow morning. Totsuka and Kusanagi-san have already picked up on his recent habit of hiding the bruises, and Shouhei is glad that San-chan is a bit dense at times. The chain is jerked on sharply, and the edges of the collar cut into his skin, making him hiss, thought it's not an entirely unpleasant sensation. "Yes?" Shouhei rasps, looking up with a wry smile.

Mikoto glances down at the boy kneeling subserviently between his legs, and raises an eyebrow with an exasperated sigh. Why Akagi even tries to act innocent at times like these is utterly beyond Mikoto, but a good king takes care of his clansmens' needs, and this is a particular need that Mikoto is more than happy to humor. Winding the chain leash tighter around his hand, Mikoto pulls Shouhei closer to him, and the boy obliges, approaching on his hands and knees. Shouhei is so needy, a bulge already present in his pants before Mikoto's even touched him, and the boy lays his cheek against his king's thigh, an unwarranted display of tenderness. This action earns Shouhei a rough backhand across the face that is sure to leave a mark, and the boy gasps. Mikoto's expression is indifferent.

Shouhei lifts a hand to cradle his injured cheek, but the smile on his face never fades for even a moment. Normally, Mikoto wouldn't even consider hurting one of hi own clansmen, but it's hard to turn Shouhei down when he wants it so desperately. Better for him to do it than some random men in the alleyway, like the first time he saw Shouhei like this. That time, Shouhei had been sprawled on the ground bruised and bleeding and unbelievably wanton. Mikoto is at least considerate and careful enough not to leave any scars.

Keeping a careful grip on the leash, Mikoto casually reaches over and takes his pistol before pointing it at Shouhei. It's only got one bullet loaded, and Shouhei knows this- if anything, it gets the younger man off even more, the knowledge that if Mikoto so much as twitched his finger, then he could send a bullet through Shouhei's brain. Shouhei loves the adrenaline rush. By now, the boy has done this enough times to know exactly what Mikoto wants from him, or rather what he wants from Mikoto, without either of them having to say a single word.

He runs his cheek along the side of the gun, feeling the tickle of cold steel against his skin; his eyes slide close and his mouth falls open as his expression transforms into one of absolute bliss. This time, Mikoto slaps him with the pistol, and it draws a bit of blood where the metal has cut into Shouhei's skin. Shouhei slowly runs his tongue along the cut on his bleeding lip, and nods complacently. "Yes king," he rasps, voice husky from arousal, and places a kiss against the muzzle of the gun. It feels like ice on his lips.

Still holding the leash in his hand, Mikoto grabs a fistful of Shouhei's hair and tugs him roughly closer, forcing the boy to actually part his lips and take the head of the pistol into his mouth. It's an absolutely lewd motion, especially with the sounds that Shouhei makes as he wraps his tongue around the metal, swallowing as much of the gun as he can; it's not secret what it's supposed to represent, judging by the position of the gun between Mikoto's legs, and Shouhei's whorish expression. The bulge in Shouhei's pants becomes almost unbearable, and he wonders if it would be alright to use his teeth- after all, the gun doesn't feel anything. He also knows that Mikoto would not appreciate bite marks or scratches on his gun, but getting Mikoto angry would only lead to further punishment, and Shouhei knows that could turn out either very well or very badly. He decides that it's probably best not to test his luck, at least not this time. He doesn't think he'd be able to stand it if Mikoto just upped and left him now.

An involuntary whimper leaves Shouhei's lips as Mikoto withdraws the gun, and the boy leans forward, chasing for it. He's reprimanded this time with a kick to the stomach that knocks all the wind out of him and causes him to keel over in pain. His smile falters for a moment as he winces, but it returns once again, despite the instinctive welling of tears in his eyes. "King…" he groans, arms wrapped around his stomach as he looks up, lips parted with wanting. "Please. Anything." This earns him a blow to the face to forceful that it knocks him onto his back, and Mikoto stands before stomping a boot-clad foot onto Shouhei's chest. Shouhei gasps and chokes, expression twisting into one of acute pain, and Mikoto pulls hard on the leash, constricting Shouhei's windpipe. Fighting for oxygen in short, panicked half-breaths, Shouhei receives the message loud and clear: Know your place.

Tears run down Shouhei's cheeks and he nods frantically, whispered pleads of "I'm sorry, please, it hurts, King, please," spilling from his lips, Mikoto appears unsympathetic to his begging, and it isn't until Shouhei's lips are pale and his head has begun to spin that the king lowers himself to kneel on Shouhei's chest, which increases the pressure on his abdomen, but slackens the leash and allows Shouhei to breathe. As the boy gasps for air in attempt to regain his bearings, Mikoto trails his gaze along Shouhei's body. The boy is still hard as a rock- how lewd. In an almost mockingly gentle motion, Mikoto slides the barrel of the gun down from Shouhei's chest, along his hips, and points it against the boy's clothed erection in a dangerous parody of a caressing hand. Shouhei still bucks against the pressure, moaning softly, desperate for touch.

Mikoto shifts himself down to sit between Shouhei's parted thighs, but keeps a hand on the boy's waist to keep him from moving. He sets the gun aside, and unzips Shouhei's pants, which draws a hiss of breath from the boy. Mikoto pushes Shouhei onto his belly and tugs on the leash until the boy crawls onto his hands and knees, and Mikoto pulls down Shouhei's pants and underwear in the same motion, leaving the boy exposed. Taking the pistol again, he traces it along the length of Shouhei's erection, and Mikoto sees the boy visibly shudder as he tries to hold himself up. Mikoto presses the muzzle of the gun behind Shouhei's balls, and the boy lets out a sharp cry, his arms giving out and his torso collapsing to the floor with his backside pushed out for Mikoto to abuse. Shouhei presses his cheek against the floor, saliva beginning to drip and pool around his chin, and winces as Mikoto places the head of the pistol against the pucker of his ass. The gun is thick and ridged, and Shouhei knows that without preparation, without lube, if Mikoto just shoves it in like this, he'll tear. Shouhei trembles in fear and suspense, unsure of whether Mikoto will actually do it or not, and his sigh of relief is audible when Mikoto places the gun on the floor and reaches for the bottle of lubricant instead.

Mikoto starts by pushing two thick fingers into Shouhei at once, and Shouhei sobs at the fullness of it, finally. He tries to buck backwards and take it in deeper, but Mikoto's hold on his hips is firm, forcing him to allow the king to work at his own pace. Mikoto works his fingers in and out of Shouhei slowly, scissoring them and stretching him wide. When Mikoto inserts a third finger, Shouhei lets out of a deep groan, and Mikoto responds by landing a broad-handed slap on the boy's ass cheek.

"Agh!" Shouhei grits his teeth and curls his hands into fists, but his erection twitches, and Mikoto notices this. Shouhei squeezes his eyes shut, taking deep breaths from the mouth, but all of a sudden, a hand grips onto the back of his neck, and Mikoto slams the side of his head into the hard floor. "Look at me," the king orders, and Shouhei has no option to oblige, arching his back and bending his neck painfully to catch meager glimpses of Mikoto rolling on a condom and slicking himself in preparation for entry. It's a painful position and Shouhei can't actually look behind himself like that, but he suspects that was the king's intention all along.

Finally, Mikoto lines up his cock with Shouhei's entrance, and without waiting, he thrusts himself into Shouhei as deep as he can in one go. The sound that Shouhei makes is a strangled cry, and he claws against the floor, tears coming to his eyes from the burning, stretching sensation. The edges of the collar are digging into his throat again, and he can barely breathe, though he can't tell whether it's from the amazing feeling of fullness or Mikoto's tugging on the leash.

Mikoto has one hand on Shouhei's hip, gripping tightly enough to leave bruises, and another hand grabbing onto Shouhei's hair, pulling on it as he rocks the boy's frame with deep, powerful thrusts. A stream of intelligible noises come from Shouhei's lips, and it hurts so much and he loves it. This is the kind of sensation that he can't get from anywhere else, because San-chan isn't a cruel person and Chitose is too much a romantic, but his king is brutal and rough, and big enough to make Shouhei feel like he's ripping apart from the inside just the way he likes it. Shouhei feels the pleasure spiking up and down his spine, and he only wishes that he could taste the metal of the pistol, or the heavy scent of Mikoto's cock in his mouth at the same time.

Shouhei can feel his king's rhythm becoming more and more erratic, and knows that the both of them are close. In a momentary display of tenderness, Mikoto reaches up to carress the boy's bicep, where his Homra brand is. Shouhei feels a tingling warmth spread through him, as well as a shock of pleasure searing through his nervous system, and before he can even think, a soft moan leaves his lips. "King." Shouhei gives a groan and spurts his release across the floor and his stomach. His ass spasms and clenches around Mikoto, and Mikoto keeps thrusting into him, sending waves after wave of pleaure through Shouhei as he rides out his orgasm. Mikoto pulls out, and Shouhei scrambles to turn around. Rolling the condom off, all it takes is one lathe of a warm tongue against Mikoto's cock, and Shouhei's king comes all over the boy's face.

Mikoto glances down at the boy prostrated before him on the floor, with Mikoto's mark burnt into his arm and a mark of ownership splattered across his face. Shouhei's smile is wider, wider than before, and despite the blood, cuts and bruises on his face, he looks content. Mikoto reaches over to unbuckle the collar, and as it falls to the floor, Shouhei closes his eyes with a sigh. "Thank you, King."

Shouhei has a visible limp as he walks off to the showers to clean himself off. Mikoto lights a cigarette and takes a drag of tobacco before really wondering how such a seemingly normal boy turned out to have such fucked up kinks


End file.
